


Life Lessons

by HouseIandi



Category: Campaign (Podcast), Campaign (Podcast): Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Slice of Life, Snapshots, child rearing, it's just fluff, questionable child rearing, really - Freeform, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-22 20:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseIandi/pseuds/HouseIandi
Summary: Tryst is the best criffing big brother? mentor? cool uncle? whatever. in the galaxy.Tamlin learns a lot from Uncle Tryst.Snapshots





	1. Looking Good is Your First Weapon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potatofuzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatofuzz/gifts).



> So Jaime posted this incredible gif set as inspiration for Tryst&Tamlin, and I just kind of ran with that. I've got a few more ideas, so who knows? This may actually be continued! This was fun to write, silly and sweet. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> (As an aside, I'm still catching up on the podcast, so this was written by someone who has only listened through like episode 84 - apologies if I have severely diverted from canon after that point.)

“But Uncle Leenik! That’s not fair!” 

“That’s rough kid, but I’m not going to let you borrow my best wig.”

Tamlin sadly surrendered the bright blue hairpiece to Leenik, who whirled it away from him to put it back on one of the many wig heads he had lined up around his bunk. “What about this one?” Tamlin looked hopeful as he gently dropped the platinum bob on top of his horns, the severe bangs getting tangled in them as the too-large wig drooped down into his eyes. He brushed aside some of the hair to let his eyes peek out and pouted his bottom lip, but to no avail. 

With a small shriek, Leenick snatched the wig from his head and held it close to his chest, gently brushing out nonexistent snarls with his fingers. “Tamlin, you know there are some things you aren’t supposed to touch! These are adult things. Go play with your lizards or something.”

Tamlin crossed his arms over his chest. “But the lizards are boring! I always play with the lizards. Besides, I’m an adult!”

Leenik spread his arms out and started to herd Tamlin away from the bunk and his wigs. “Well that doesn’t really matter, because you’re still not able to touch these wigs. Oh, hey!”

Tryst, who had been walking by, found himself being tugged by the elbow towards Leenik’s bunk very quickly and just as quickly shoved away again. He looked down at the unexpected weight attached to his knees, Leenik’s voice floating back. “Go play with Uncle Tryst. I have to make sure the wigs are alright.”

Finding themselves summarily dismissed, the pair stood still, considering each other. Tryst silently raised one eyebrow in question.

Tamlin looked at Tryst unblinkingly and pulled out a wig of perfectly curled long black hair from underneath his shirt. “Good one kid,” Tryst barked out a laugh as he ruffled his horns affectionately. “What do you want with ol’ Bug-Face’s wigs anyways?”

Tamlin was stroking the hair to his chest in the exact same manner Leenik had just done, which, unfortunately for him, meant that he was flattening the painstaking curls. Tryst decided not to say anything on that, just focused on Tamlin’s face lighting up as he dropped the wig in excitement. He picked it up and waved it around grandly as he explained,

“I wanna have a fashion show! And I thought Uncle Leenik’s wigs would be a nice touch.”

“Oh, really now.” Tryst had turned deadly serious. “Do you have your clothes set yet? Your hair? Your makeup looks? The walk? Where were you going to host it?”

Looking slightly unsure now, Tamlin replied, “Well, we’re in space right now so I was just going to do it here-”

Tryst whirled around and looked over the Mynock’s interior with a critical eye. “I guess I can see what you’re going for - the state of the ship is commentary on how dirty the fashion industry can treat those who live inside it. I mean, Jesus, when was the last time someone cleaned this thing?” He spun back around to face Tamlin. “Or were you just going for grunge aesthetic? Because that can be a statement in and of itself, but it has to be handled a bit more carefully otherwise you end up with someone misconstruing your venue, and you do NOT want that to happen.” Tryst was standing with his hands on his hips now, his booted foot gently kicking at a mysterious piece of debris that may have once been rabbit guts. Or some of the rancid meatloaf?

Tamlin blinked at him, now wearing the wig with one side flattened. “Does it have to mean anything?”

Tryst sighed gustily, “Does it have to mean- wait, that could be it too. Actually, that’s pretty brilliant of you. Yes, I get it now. It doesn’t mean anything. Which means that it means everything. I’m in. You obviously need a visionary to help you pull this off.”

“You’re gonna play with me?” Tamlin said, bouncing up on his toes in hope.

“No, I’m not going to play with you. I am going to help you put on the greatest fashion show this ship has ever seen though. Now. Clothes?”

\-----------------------

Lynn had been attempting some minor repairs to the much-abused proximity sensor, the results of which were streaked across her torso in oil. Popping the joints in her back, she was coming back to her rucksack to get out a clean shirt only to be confronted with the entirety of her (limited) wardrobe spread out across the hammock. She stood still for a moment before calmly asking, “Umm, okay, why are you going through my things?”

“Lyn, where do you keep your skirts, I can’t find a single one in your pack.” Tryst was unabashedly pawing through her shorts, lifting one up to smell. “And, ugh, when was the last time you washed these?”

She moved towards him and grabbed the shorts from his hands. “I don’t have any skirts, and the last time I washed those was when we were on planet. We don’t exactly have a washing apparatus on board. This is a very small ship. When was the last time you washed your clothes Tryst?”

“I don’t ever wash my clothes. They just show up back in my drawer not smelling anymore.”

Lyn sighed. “That’s because Bacta washes them with me and Nemo when we get to a planet. And you never answered my question: why are you going through my things?” 

“Well, you never answered my question - where are your skirts? I need them for a look I’m planning, and none of mine are quite right.”

Tamlin’s head popped up from where it was ducked underneath Lyn’s hammock out of her sight. He was also wearing one of her sturdiest vests with all of the buttons done up incorrectly. “We’re doing a fashion show Uncle Lyn! Do you want to be in it?”

At this, Tryst looked affronted. “Tamlin, you can’t just ask anyone if they want to be in the fashion show. As the director and designer, I believe I have final say over any and all models who will be partaking in this.”

“Don’t worry, Trystan, I have no desire to be in your show,” Lyn said with a laugh, tension leaving her limbs. This was honestly a lot more benign than she had thought may be the case. Moving towards her hammock and the two boys, she started to refold the clothes and return them to her pack. 

Tamlin poked her in the belly and asked, “Come on Uncle Lyn, why don’t you want to be in our fashion show? Don’t you want to hang out with us?” She laughed and gently tickled him as he giggled and shrugged out of the vest.

“No thank you Tamlin, but if you need any behind the scenes help, I’d be happy to help set that up.” She took the vest from him and began returning everything to her pack.

“Lyn. Focus. Please. Yes, you will be playing piano for us, great. But skirts. I have a look in mind that requires a skirt.”

“As I already said, Trystan, I do not own any skirts because they are not the most practical garments for archeological excavation, and I have to pack light. But yes, I would be happy to help you with the music for your show after I get myself cleaned up.”

Tamlin had managed to get himself out of not only Lyn’s clothes but his own shirt as well, and now stood bare-chested and bare-footed. “Great! Thanks Uncle Lyn. Come on Uncle Tryst, we gotta go get Uncle Bacta.”

He tore off down the hall, shouting “Uncle Bacta! Uncle Bacta, where are you?”

Tryst ran after him, stumbling in a pair of Lyn’s pants a bit before righting himself and following the little boy. “Tamlin, Bacta doesn’t know anything about fashion. Come on, the dude looks the same as hundreds of other people out there - no sense of style.” He turned the corner to find Tamlin being held up in the air, his feet swinging at nothing as he laughed his head off.

“Tamlin, how many times have I told you? No running in the ship. Especially barefoot - it’s dangerous. You could slip and fall, and besides, it makes a lot of noise, which gives away your position.” Bacta turned, Tamlin still laughing in his grip, towards Tryst. “Did you have something to do with this?”

“To do with what?” Tryst fetched up against the wall, trying to look casual as he lifted his right foot up to get rid of the pair of Lyn’s underwear that had somehow gotten hooked around his ankle.

Bacta sighed. “Tryst, please try to remember that you’re the adult in this. Tamlin shouldn’t be running in the ship unless he has been specifically instructed to for exercise purposes. Here Tamlin, take a lizard.” He set the boy down and picked one of the bloated reptiles off of a nearby shelf to set around Tamlin’s shoulders. 

Tamlin immediately wriggled the lizard free, letting it slide grossly down one of his arms. “Uncle Tryst says the lizards don’t fit with his istehic.”

Tryst, who had finally managed to get the underwear unstuck from his boot, looked up guiltily and dropped them on the floor as Bacta turned to look at him. “I don’t know how those got here.”

Bacta pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tryst. What is Tamlin talking about?”

“Hey, do you do my laundry?”

“Uncle Tryst and I are putting on a fashion show! We have a wig from Uncle Leenik and Uncle Lyn is going to play piano for us; she didn’t have any skirts for us to borrow. Do you have any skirts?” He gasped. “Do you wanna be in the show with us?”

“Tamlin! I told you, I get final decision on my models.”

Bacta looked a little bit bashful. “Tamlin, that’s very kind of you, but I don’t think I would be very good at being in a fashion show.”

“See? It’s for the best Tamllin, now let’s go find someone who can be helpful” Tryst said with some amount of finality.

“Well you have to join in somehow. Everyone else is going to be.” Tamlin tried the same thing he had earlier with Leenik, this time with significantly more success, his upturned face, wide eyes, and pouty lower lip doing a lot more with Bacta.

Slowly and consideringly, Bacta said, “I do do all of the mending and stitching around here. Maybe I could sew you something?” He looked over at Tryst.

Tryst pushed off the wall a bit finally, “See, now that may just be useful.” He tilted his head, looking Bacta up and down. “I do in fact have a vision for a bit of an avant garde look, and if you are possibly capable of making it, then you absolutely must. What are you working on, anyways? Probably nothing important. Come on, I have some designs laid out in the kitchen.”

As the three walked off, Bacta turned to Tryst. “If Lyn didn’t have a skirt for you to borrow, you can maybe use mine, but I don’t know if it’s what you’re looking for.”

Tryst swallowed his squawk of surprise and managed to get out, “I doubt it, but I ought to see it anyways.”

\-----------------------

“Okay Tamlin, now here comes the most important part of any runway show. The walk. It has to be perfect. Show me what you’ve got.” Tryst gestured to the hallway they were using as a practice. Tamlin started down, but was immediately stopped by Tryst’s arm. “No, no, I can already see this is all wrong. Watch me.” He firmly placed Tamlin behind him before turning around to face his ‘runway,’ taking a deep breath in, and holding it for a second before starting to walk. 

Tamlin considered him as he strutted away, back ramrod straight and eyes focused directly ahead; he stopped at the end of the hall to drop one shoulder and strike a pose before turning around. “Is this different from the way you normally walk?”

That stopped him in his tracks, and his hands which had been draped at his sides flew to his hips. “Is this differ- is this different? Would you say my hair looks the same right now as it did yesterday?” 

“Umm, yes?”

Tryst was still posing to an extent, now he just had one hand on a hip with the other bent in the air as he pinched the bridge of his nose and his head tipped back artfully. He gave a short sigh before responding: “Yes, Tamlin. Of course my hair is the same. Nevermind that it has gel in it today and yesterday it had pomade in it; it’s like you learned nothing when I gave you the hair lesson.”

“I don’t have hair though?”

Tamlin was still standing where Tryst had placed him, his face scrunched up in confusion. Tryst walked back to him and kneeled down to be eye-to-eye. “Tamlin, I know you don’t have hair. You have little spikey things that really ought to be spikier now that I think of it-”

“Really, you think so? Because I think they should be spikier too, but Uncle Bacta says that it would be dangerous for-” Tamlin exclaimed excitedly until Tryst cut him off again.

“That’s neither here nor there right now. First of all: my hair is not at all the same as it was yesterday. This is a totally different style. Study that chart I gave you some more tonight, okay? And secondly, right now we have to focus on this fashion show. Which means that I have just a few hours to make sure you learn how to walk. This normally takes years of practice and an innate talent that I’m not sure you have.”

“What does innate mean?”

“I don’t know, ask your Uncle Lyn. Okay, are you ready?” With that, Tryst patted Tamlin’s shoulders and stood up to face down the hallway again. “It’s about graceful movement and acting like everyone is beneath you. Watch me.”

His boots made a precise click with every step he took down and back along the metal grating, his eyes never dipping below their exact height. “Walk, walk, walk, never turn your head, walk, hit a pose to the right, hit a pose to the left, turn on your back heel, walk, walk, walk…”

As he came back, holding the frankly almost murderous expression, Tamlin pushed him aside, saying, “Okay, okay, it’s my turn.”

Tamlin had to glance down at his feet every now and then and his step was considerably closer to a clomp than anything else, but Tryst beamed at him anyways. “See, it’s all about the attitude! Go again!” This time, Tamlin struck some poses at the far end, still imitating the way Tryst had set his body. 

“Okay, good, now see, here are some other poses you can try. No, no, duck your head-just like that, that’s good.” 

This time it was Nemo who walked in on them right as they both blew kisses at an imaginary audience. Without turning around at all, he groped behind his back to open the door again and backed out, eyes wide. As the door slid shut, Tryst shouted after him, “You’re gonna write up a blurb about our fashion show in a few hours!”

After a bit more walking and posing practice, Tryst finally turned Tamlin loose. “I have to go talk to Bacta and finalize our outfits for this.”

“Can I help?”

“No, I have an important job for you. Go convince Uncle Leenik to do hair and makeup for this.”

Tamlin took a half step backwards. “But Uncle Leenik is mad at me. And he didn’t want to help me earlier.”

“Well, go change his mind. I guess I could do it instead, but it’s always nice to have a designated makeup artist while at these things so that the creative director can just focus on directing.”

Tamlin still looked unsure, but Tryst just clapped him on the shoulder and steered him in the direction of Leenik’s bunk before hurrying away. Slowly, Tamlin took the wig out from his belt where it had been hopelessly mangled during all of the running around. He tried detangling it a bit, but succeeded only in getting his fingers hopelessly tangled in the hair. Finally managing to free them, he shook the wig, holding it up in front of his eyes before defiantly dropping it once more atop his head and marching towards Leenik’s bunk.

\--------------------

Leenik gasped when he saw him, his hands flying first to cover his mouth in horror, then immediately out to try to snatch the hair from Tamlin’s head. “What did you do to th-”

“Uncle Tryst says you should do our makeup and hair for our fashion show tonight.” Tamlin very loudly cut across Leenik’s protestations, his hands twisted in the wig’s strands so he could keep it firmly on his head.

“You give that back this inst- a fashion show?” Leenik paused, hands still grabbing on top of Tamlin’s trying to pry them out of the hair. His eyes flitted side to side and Tamlin could almost see him working out his calculations.

“Uncle Tryst specifically said that he wanted you to do it because you’re so good at it, but that you could only do it if you promised not to be mad at me for borrowing your wig.”

Two sets of eyes narrowed at each other before, in unison, two pairs of hands dropped from the matted wig sliding into Tamlin’s eyes. Leenik smiled.

“I’d love to! But do you know what outfits he’s putting together? Because I can’t just do a generic look - every piece should have a matching style.”

Tamlin grinned up at him. “I don’t know, he told me to stay out of designing the outfits. But you could go and ask him!”

Leenik paused to give Tamlin a brief spasm of what may have been a pat on the back or possibly an aborted attempt at a hug before hurrying out, lugging his makeup kit and a number of wigs with him.

Tamlin, turning towards the wigs that had been left, carefully deposited the ruined one atop a bare mannequin head. He meant to leave, but paused and swallowed at the bright pink bun sitting right there……

\-------------------

“Ok, now, looking good is your first weapon, don’t forget that. Tamlin. Tamlin, what did I just say?”

Tryst was pulling his legs into what looked like half a pair of booty shorts and a long pleated skirt on the other side as Leenik hurried around his face, enlarging certain features and minimizing others. 

“Looking good is your first weapon!” Tamlin piped up. He had been similarly attired in asymmetric pieces and had to admit he was really enjoying the huge ruffles on the right side of his shirt.

“Are you guys almost ready?” Lyn called from behind their repurposed shower curtain, now strung up at the entrance to the kitchen. As it was the only place on the ship with any real seating, Tryst had decided that their runway would be the short hallway leading to the kitchen, then a circle around the island and piano, with plenty of opportunities for posing up close and personal. 

“Not yet woman! Jeeze, you’d think she had never played piano for a last-minute fashion show before.” Pulling on just one turquoise elbow length opera glove, he pushed Leenik away and examined himself in the mirror. 

When he stood up, apparently satisfied, there was a pause as all three of them stared at each other until Tryst finally said, “Leenik, what are you still doing here? You’re supposed to be in the audience.” Turning, he addressed Tamlin, “You ready? You remember everything?”

“Walk, walk, walk, pose to the left, pose to the right, walk walk back. Then change really really fast.”

“Exactly. Now let’s go!”

In his excitement, Tamlin pushed in front of the curtains before Lyn realized that he was ready to go, so the music started a bit late. 

He and Tryst hadn’t thought to practice their timing with the walking, and Tryst wound up being significantly faster at walking; this was not helped by the fact that Tamlin was significantly slower at changing between outfits, leading to awkwardly long pauses in the program. 

Lyn played just whatever came to mind, which wound up being a truly hilarious number of Kaiber Crystals songs interspersed with mournful ballads and random bits and bobs she had picked up over the years. 

Tamlin managed to wildly trip over his incredibly too-long pant legs at some point, but pulled off the fall as intentional, popping back up to lots of applause and Bacta’s shrill whistle. 

During one of the changes, Tryst smeared his makeup all over a shirt as he pulled it over his head, but didn’t worry too much (the shirt had originally been Nemo’s after all). He also, about three quarters of the way through, jumped on the kitchen table and tried to treat his pants as tearaway pants. This resulted in a full minute of hopping around, fruitlessly yanking at the seams before giving it up and hopping down with one large rip down the left side hip. 

Misunderstanding one of the pieces, Tamlin squeezed his entire body into one pant leg and treated it as a dress, letting the other leg trail behind him as he hopped down the runway and Tryst just shook his head backstage. 

For the final look, Tryst changed into his normal smuggler’s clothes and produced a miniature version for Tamlin: the vest, the pants, the boots, and the rakish grin. Swinging his mini-me up to sit on his shoulders, Tryst wasn’t wholly surprised when Tamlin dropped a wig on his head - the bright pink bun from earlier. They closed out the show to raucous applause, Tryst taking so many bows he wound up slightly unsure about which way was actually the right side up. 

They ended up backstage finally, Tamlin jumping all up and down around Tryst, who was still slightly woozy from all the bowing. “Uncle Tryst, Uncle Tryst!” Tamlin was absolutely shining with excitement. “We should do that again, that was great!”

“Sure thing kid, just as soon as I get a cup of tea first.”

The pair emerged from behind their curtain, still dressed in their matching outfits, and squeezed in the booth along with everyone else to gulp down tea and talk about their favorite looks of the evening. Eventually Tryst realized that the weight against his side had grown heavier and that Tamlin had fallen asleep on top of him. He carried him back to his bed and laid him down gently in his smuggling vest before turning around and going to bed himself, a slight smile on his face following him to sleep.


	2. Nothing Always Means Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tryst refers to Tamlin as "kid" a la Han and Luke because the author can't remember if that's actually Canen.

Tryst stumbled into the kitchen, bleary eyed, his sleeping kimono barely tied around his waist. “Caf. Or tea. Whichever. I don’t even know what I drink normally. Just. Something.” He slumped down into the booth and let his head thump down onto the table. “Come on, someone.” Silence. “Anyone. Bacta? Why aren’t you bringing me my hot drink of choice? Leenik? You always have some tea going.”

“They’re all gone.” Tamlin piped up from somewhere in the kitchen.

Tryst sat straight up at that, his hair still sticking up wildly and eyes crusted close, but more alert than he had been moments ago. “What do you mean they’re gone?”

“I mean they went shopping this afternoon. We needed more food and stuff and I guess Leenik wanted to buy more makeup. And he took Mr. Nemo with him - I guess they were going to find some Rodian thing? I don’t remember.”

“Huh. Okay. Why am I here then?” Tryst let his head slide back down to rest on his hands as his whole body relaxed into the booth once more.

“Because you were still asleep?”

“I guess that makes sense. So what are you doing?” Tryst finally opened his eyes to find Tamlin sitting at the glittery pink piano bench, looking guilty.

“Nothing. I promise.”

“As soon as someone says they’re doing nothing, you know that they’re doing something. Remember that, Tamlin. Nothing means something.”

“Nothing means something, okay, I got it.” Tamlin nodded vigorously

Tryst groaned mightily as he stood up and cracked his back, swinging his torso to let his hip joints pop as well. At Tamlin’s slightly concerned look, he pointed at him and said, “Hey, I’m not old. I’m young and sprightly and sometimes my body needs to be reminded of that.”

Tamlin tilted his head slightly to the side, “Is that why you slept in until 2:00 in the afternoon?”

“Huh, is that what time it is? Whatever. Guess I’ll have to find my own caffeine.” 

With that, Tryst moved into the kitchen proper, retying his kimono more securely around his belly, and starting the familiar process of readying a pot of tea. Tamlin watched him in silence from behind the piano, only his horns, eyes, and fingers peeking over the top of the instrument. Tryst did his own staring, eyes unfocused, at the kettle as it warmed. He drummed his fingers on the countertop for a full minute before finally bursting out with, “it’s taking forever - does it normally take this long? It feels like it’s taking way longer than usual.”

“That’s probably because Uncle Leenik normally makes it for you.”

Tryst shot a glare at Tamlin, who ducked quickly behind the piano once more, but too quickly: he smacked his head on the lip of the top and let out a short yelp. 

“Hey, hey Tamlin, you okay? You can’t be hurt - Bacta will murder me if you’re hurt.” Tryst immediately hurried away from the kettle and rounded the instrument, hands fluttering at his sides, unsure of what to do. “Kid?”

Tamlin was rubbing his head, but otherwise looked unhurt. “Yeah, I’m fine Uncle Tryst. See, all good.” He showed his head to Tryst, who poked at it a bit.

“I’m gonna be honest here, I can’t tell if that bump is from you hitting your head or one of your little horns. So we’ll call it a wash, good deal?”

“Deal!” Tamlin enthusiastically held out his hand for Tryst to shake. He shook, then ran his hands through his hair a bit uncertainly. 

“What are you doing sitting at the piano anyways?”

Tamlin’s mouth twisted a bit and his eyes darted side to side. “Nothing.”

“I thought we just went over this, Tamlin. Nothing always means something. What’s the something?”

“Okay, but you can’t be mad at me,” Tamlin attempted to bargain, wringing his hands together and trying the puppy-dog eyes that worked 100% of the time on Bacta and Nemo and about 85% of the time on Tryst. Leenik and Lyn were somewhat more scrupulous when it came to his most pleading looks.

“Tamlin, when have I ever been mad at you for a decision you’ve made?”

“Well, never, I guess.”

“That’s right. I mean, I’m not your Uncle Leenik or anything,” he laughed.

Tamlin let out a little giggle. “No, you’re Uncle Tryst!”

“So what’s up with you then?”

Tamlin settled back onto his butt, facing towards the piano and hesitantly putting his fingers gently on top of the keys. “You and Uncle Lyn are both so good at playing the piano, and I was thinking maybe I could play it too.” He gently stroked the tops of them, not depressing any of the keys, but wistful just the same.

Blinking hard and swallowing a bit, Tryst finally said, “Well if that’s the case, all you had to do was ask! I’ll teach you piano. After all, I am a brilliant musician.” He winked at Tamlin, who had whirled around to face him excitedly.

“Really? You’ll teach me to play just like you do?”

“Of course! Here, budge up, first lesson starts now.”

Tamlin eagerly scooted over, his tiny legs not even getting close to reaching the pedals. Their thighs pressed together, Tryst showed him how to hold his fingers (“No, see, you’ve gotta make like a cup with your hands, otherwise your wrists will start to hurt.”) and how to make each one move independently of the rest (“this part just takes some practice, but I know you’ll get there soon). He walked him through finding Middle C and how to correctly play a basic scale. (“But what about reading music, Uncle Tryst?” “We’ll get to that later, promise.”) 

Tryst took the chance to show off a bit, playing runs and riffs with increasingly large flourishes that had Tamlin falling over himself in fits of giggles. (“Hey, wanna learn something really easy that will really, really annoy Bacta?”) He eventually picked Tamlin up and sat him on his own lap, laying the boy’s fingers on top of his own to let him pretend he was the one playing a complicated piece, and reveling in the childish glee he rarely got to see from Tamlin.

By the time the others made their way back to the ship, they had spent several hours at the instrument, playing and being silly. Those returning were greeted by “And a-one, and a-two, and a-three, and a-go!” before launching into a brash rendition of Chopsticks where one line was ever so slightly out of sync with the others. 

Bacta smiled the first time they went through it, but as they kept banging around, repeating the same line, his eye eventually started twitching. But he applauded them after each round just the same as Lyn, Leenik, Nemo, and Tryst (who applauded himself each and every time). Eventually they finished, tired of the song themselves, but still beaming at each other, smiles which soon turned to shrieks of laughter as the fire alarm finally went off. The kettle, from which all the water had evaporated long ago, had finally begun to set off smoke. 

“Quick Tamlin, keep playing! Keep playing and we can drown out the alarm!” So they started to bang away at the keys again, laughing at each other as everyone else ran around doing things like getting fire extinguishers and calming Kat down and finding the appropriate alarm pillow. In the eventual quiet that followed, Tamlin slipped off the bench and smiled up at Tryst, who turned around. “So, next lesson tomorrow afternoon sound good, Tamlin?”

“Sounds perfect, Uncle Tryst.”


	3. Let Sleeping Beings Lie

“I am going to kill that man.” Lyn fumed - a common state of being for anyone with a scrap of common sense who spent time on the Mynock. She normally considered herself a placid person, but these days she was getting rather comfortable with feeling infuriated. 

Raising one boot and then the other, she growled in disgust at the neon orange paint coating their soles and turned to survey the engine room. It looked like, well, it looked exactly like what had happened. Two children and one 400 pound space wolf had decided to try rollerblading next to some paint cans. It’s somehow worse when one of those children isn’t actually a child.

Turning around in a circle revealed what she already knew: there wasn’t anywhere to go not already covered in paint, and it was time to accept the inevitable. With a scowl firmly set on her face, she marched through the engine room into the hallway, each footfall making a horrible squelching noise.

\-----------------------------

Her grimace only deepened when she got into the hallway and found further evidence of the rollerblading incident. Dents in the walls; skid marks on the floors; large rakes that could have only come from a large, venomous, barbed tail; wait - was that blood?; more lines of paint streaked across the ground; an entire ceiling tile just lying there; and the skates themselves. Standing on top of the fallen tile, she looked up at the hole in the ceiling and tried to muster the energy to put it back up. She stood there for several minutes but eventually just sighed in disgust. Failing that, she stepped off to find that her boots had left neon orange prints in her size squarely in the middle of it. Someway, somehow, I am going to be the one who ends up having to deal with this, I just know it. 

She squatted down to remove the shoes, not managing to come away as cleanly as she had hoped. Standing again, she stared down, expressionless, at the gunk covering her forearm. A fun mixture of paint and dirt and dust and something she prayed was neither venom nor blood, it remained stubbornly stuck to her orange skin. It had been nice skin, she mourned. Nothing for it now. 

She left the boots where they sat sadly soaking up the strange substance from the floor and padded towards the fresher. She let the door hiss open, felt the rush of water pour out, and immediately closed it again to keep the deluge at bay. Her face was serene and her toes were wet as she mentally decided that this was officially going to be a Bacta Problem™. 

\----------------------------

Her next encounter was with Tony, his stomach distended and his weird nose/muzzle whistling as the animal slept off the afternoon's activities. 

Stepping well clear of the twitching venomous tail she finally reached the kitchen, where the only thing in sight was a massive mound of empty candy wrappers spread on top of the table. The fruit she had bought in an attempt to provide Tamlin with a balanced diet sat in the center of it, untouched. 

A noise broke her silent rage, one strikingly similar to the whuffles coming from the gigantic wolf sleeping outside. Sure enough, when she quietly stepped around the booth in her socks, she saw the two troublemakers. Tryst was lying on his back in the booth, legs dangling off the end and head thrown back. His arms were wrapped securely around the much smaller body of Tamlin who lay sprawled out across Tryst's chest. 

He looked much more like a normal child when he slept, his legs all akimbo with his tiny hands tucked up near his mouth. Both of them were filthy, paint and ceiling dust and candy and everything else caking them head to toe. Between how sticky they were and the force with which Tryst held the boy to his chest, Lyn was a little worried about what would happen when they needed to be separated. 

She was trying desperately to hold on to her anger (it was a perfectly good pair of boots! And who knows what's all over my skin now! And I can’t even get into the criffing fresher!) but it was difficult in the face of the adorable tableau.

"I was tempted to just point a hose at them for both punishment and cleaning purposes, but they're so often whatever the opposite of peaceful is. This feels peaceful. Plus, the fresher is already flooded, I don’t want to flood the kitchen too." Bacta had stolen up behind her, and she nodded in tacit agreement with his assessment. 

"Yes, I was going to mention that ought to be a you problem."

Bacta shrugged, still looking at the pair whose chests were now moving up and down in adorable unison. "I got Kat to take pictures of this so I'm hoping I can blackmail Tryst into actually helping clean up."

"Out of curiosity, who originally bought the paint? The color is...erm…aggressive. And also all over me."

"To be fair, you're already orange."

"Not this kind of orange."

"That is true. Uh. Leenik did."

Lyn twisted her lips a bit, her gaze never wavering from the slumbering duo. Bacta was right, they all of them got so few peaceful moments that they really had to seize them when and where they happened, even if they came after the wholesale destruction of the Mynock's interior. Tryst let out a tiny gasp and long sigh as he shifted a bit to hold Tamlin more securely. 

She whispered, "Do you think he's actually awake and just trying to use this as an excuse to get out if cleanup duty?"

"I dunno. Wouldn't put it past him."

But neither of us really cares. With a small smile at Bacta, Lyn tiptoed out of the kitchen once more to put her filthy boots inside Tryst's bed. Later there would be arguments aplenty and lots of pointed fingers, but for now she would leave the two boys be.


	4. Reading is a Very Useful Skill

"Ok, now what is this one?"

"Uh… an N?"

"No, that one is an N. N is the one with two parallel lines up and down connected by the diagonal. Try again. What's this one?" Lyn was gentle, her voice pitched to carry as she corrected Tamlin, her finger hovering over the data pad as he screwed up his eyes in concentration. 

"Can I have a hint?"

"Well, it comes right before N, so tha-"

He cut her off excitedly, "so it's an M!"

"That's right! Good job Tamlin. M is the one like two parallel lines up and down with two diagonals that meet in the middle." She gave him a huge smile as she explained things to him. "Ok, and what sound does an M make?"

"Mmmmm," he hummed. 

"Exactly. So, if we scroll down here, we went over these letters earlier. What are they, in order?"

"That's a M. And that's a T. And the one in the middle is uhh…" he said as he chewed on his lip, his horned head bent over the data pad.

"Its the one with two diagonal lines that come together and point up like an arrow, crossed by a bar. Think Tamlin. You know this," she said loudly.

"Is it an A?" Her smile told him all he needed to know. "So it goes Mmm then aaaa then t-" he sounded out the different letters before very confidently exclaiming "Mat!" 

"Very good job Tamlin! That's exactly how you do it. When you know the sounds the different letters make, you can put them all together and figure out what the word says. That's just how to do it."

Tamlin sat there, very satisfied with himself. He closed the tab on the data pad before turning to his teacher. "Uncle Lyn, why do you keep describing what the letters look like? I can see them right there."

Her eyes flicked to the doorway of the room, barely catching sight of a hastily moved scrap of colorful fabric. She turned back to face Tamlin, still speaking just a hair louder than was strictly necessary. "Oh you know, I just think the repetition is valuable. Reading is a very useful skill, and you're smart enough to pick it up quickly. Now, are we finished for the day?”

Tamlin slid out of the booth eagerly, already starting to rocket around the kitchen. Lyn took her time packing up her materials, maybe a little slower than was strictly necessary, shaking her head as Tamlin ran out of the room.

He immediately ran into someone’s legs and found himself swung up to sit on their shoulders. “Uncle Tryst! I just finished reading lessons with Uncle Lyn.” 

Tamlin couldn’t see Tryst’s expression, but he shifted a bit uncomfortably underneath the boy. “Yeah, kid. She knows all sorts of boring crap.”

“Actually, reading is a lot of fun. Just ask Uncle Leenik.”

“I don’t know...a long time ago, someone told me that reading wasn’t very cool.”

Tamlin wriggled around on top of Tryst until he was set down. “I don’t think that person was very cool, because reading is great,” he said with all the self-assurance of a five year old.

Tryst was still quiet, staring off into the distance a bit as he responded, “Yeah, maybe.”

Shaking that off, he broke into a grin and reached out to ruffle Tamlin’s horns. “Hey, wanna go play a prank on Uncle Leenik? I’ve got a great idea for one.”

Lyn watched them as Tryst bent down so they could put their heads together as they plotted whatever nonsense he had come up with and slowly walked down the hall. She just shook her head fondly at her students, both of them.


End file.
